“Yes, undoubtedly,” Nick agreed. “I am seeking evidence that might explain the fight.”
“It must have occurred quite soon after the two men entered.”
“True.”
“Others must have been here when they came in, then, or——”
“One moment,” Nick interposed. “I’ll see what more I can find.”
He crouched again above Taggart’s body and searched his pockets. Aside from a fully loaded revolver, he found only a few articles of no special significance, nor any letter or writing whatever, that might otherwise have shed a ray of light on the mystery.
Nick then removed the weapon from the wound and examined it. It was a double-edged sheath knife with a blade about six inches long, and with an elkhorn handle. It bore no mark of any kind, though it evidently had seen considerable service.
“This undoubtedly belongs to the Mexican,” said Nick, placing it on the table after inspecting it. “Not one man in ten thousand in these parts carries such a knife. They’re common in Mexico, however, which further confirms my theory as to the man’s nationality.”
“I think you’re right,” said Chick. “It looks very much, too, as if he killed this crook in self-defense.”
“That is my opinion, Chick, at present,” Nick replied, turning toward the hall. “We will look farther.”